Happiness
by Clio S.S
Summary: One might say there was no happiness in dying. Okita Sōji knew better.


_"Shinukoto no doko ni shiawase ga aru?"_

_(What part of dying holds happiness?)_

- Himura Kenshin

* * *

Okita Sōji knew he wouldn't see the sun again. Perhaps it was that certainty accompanying every warrior, that skill to sense the upcoming death.

Sometimes - once - he had thought he would never accept this slow dying. Now, after years of struggling with his illness, he knew he had accepted everything - for he couldn't do otherwise.

He had accepted that he would bid farewell to the world not living to be thirty. Well, it wasn't so hard - he was a samurai after all, and the death was near every day. Regardless of what wonders his sword was capable of, he could always meet his better. Time he lived in didn't support the prospect of living to an old age either, and Okita Sōji had never, even once, expected it for himself.

He had accepted the weakness that, little by little, took possession of his body until he couldn't hold his sword any more or even stand up. However humiliating it was in itself, it had taught him to listen to the bird-singing and tell the shades of the sky apart when he spent the days in his room, carefully wrapped in the quilt.

He had accepted the wish to live, which kept him from resorting to the easiest solution, saving himself the pain and ending the thing in an "honourable way". He simply wanted to see the next sunrise.

The most difficult was to acknowledge the ironic twist of fate and accept the fact he was to die not as a warrior - not for the cause, not for his lord, not for his belief - but due to the illness that could afflict anyone. Such death seemed meaningless to him, and in such moments he almost believed his short life was meaningless as well...

Until he lifted his eyes and met the warm gaze of Kondō-san.

Besides, there was nothing wrong with being like anyone. In death, all people were really equal.

Today, the first time since very long, he managed to rise from his bed and eat with everyone. For the first - and the last time. The happy eyes of his companions and their lively voices filled him with warmth. Perhaps he wasn't so unlucky after all, dying not in some dark corner of the street but surrounded by friends. He didn't suspect them to know how treacherous that illness was, releasing her prey from her embrace before the very end, giving one moment of freedom and allowing to say goodbye. Their joy wasn't fake. Perhaps they believed he really did it...

Once that would annoy him. Now he simply let himself bask in their happiness.

He didn't have to say goodbye to them, though; just looking at them - so usual, so ordinary, belonging to the reality - was enough. Hijikata-san, always serious, thoughtful, taking more burden onto his shoulders than it was necessary. But his eyes got brighter whenever he looked at Chizuru. Chizuru, who had brought so much life and light to the soldier's existence of them - modest, gentle, strong and living to help others with all her might. In her care - although it sounded absurd - they could feel like home, for a moment. Next to her, there was Heisuke, who, unnoticed, turned into a man. They had always seen him as a boy - he was the youngest, after all - but now Sōji, looking with different eyes perhaps, saw a grown-up warrior, determined and serious. Sano was leaning against the wall, his gaze and voice always sarcastic - but his heart still believed in ideals. Shinpachi, his inseparable companion, was right by his side - hot-tempered, equally prone to laughter and anger. Hajime-kun, always silent, reserved and keeping to himself - but today even he seemed to move a bit closer. Kondō-san was taking his regular seat, his beaming smile being an oasis of peace during these days of chaos. It made them almost believe that nothing had changed. Sōji lowered his head and smiled.

Everyone was like always. Everything was like always.

Sōji poured himself sake and, inwardly, raised a glass to the future of Shinsengumi. He tried not to grieve at the fact he was to leave them as one of first. He tried to find happiness in the fact he was to leave when looking into their faces, not only memories of them.

Finally, they wished each other good night. Sano and Shinpachi, although always eager to carry on the nice evening, left for the night patrol. Hijikata-san excused himself rather quickly after Chizuru. Heisuke was unlucky as it was his turn to do the dishes, so he disappeared as well, complaining only for show. Hajime-kun had never been fond of the night sessions - he stood up, waved his scarf and was gone already. Sōji was still sitting, aware that when he left this place - the one with so many memories of the normal joy - he would never come back. And... He still wasn't ready to say goodbye to Kondō-san. The Commander poured himself sake and sipped it with his typical calm. Sōji was sure he had left all his vain complaints behind, yet now, looking at the man who was more dear than anyone else to him, he felt a pang in his heart. Him he really didn't want to leave...

Somewhere in the distance, he heard the cruel laugh of his fate.

He clenched his fingers on the fabric of yukata. He didn't want to die embraced by the illness whose ravenous hot fingers dipped into his body and possessive kisses took his breath away. For a moment, he struggled with his weakness and then he surrendered.

He took the last sip of sake - it really tasted best in the summer - and put the cup down, relaxing his hands.

"Kondō-san," he said softly, raising his eyes on the Commander. "Stay with me tonight." He didn't want to hear the trembling in his voice, yet it appeared. He was sure he had left all the fear behind, yet now he feared that his pleading would be declined.

Kondō-san looked at him, astonished. Then the smile disappeared from his eyes, that filled with pain. Kondō-san _knew_. Sōji lowered his head, cursing himself for being unable to suffer alone. Kondō-san rose from his place and knelt next to him, laying the hand on his shoulder. "I will."

Sōji was surprised to discover he still had tears when the feeling of relief and gratitude made his eyes wet. "Thank you," he whispered.

Kondō-san helped him to his room. When walking, Sōji kept inhaling the air smelling of the summer flowers, as deep as he could. He even dared to raise his eyes and look at the eastern sky constellation, that seemed so bright today. Sitting on his bed, he gazed at the darkness of the new moon.

And then the night was obscured by the silhouette of Kondō Isami, who stood in the doorway for a moment before coming in. He sat down next to Sōji and took him into his arms. Sōji gave a sigh and leaned the head on his chest. He could hear the strong beat of his heart, which filled him with peace. He wasn't alone.

"I've never told you how I feel," he whispered.

The strong arms embraced him tighter.

"You've always been a model for me. I wanted to be like you," he went on and then chuckled at the unexpected memory. "Once, I told Chizuru I even copied my hairstyle after you."

"Now you're yourself," Kondō noticed, brushing through the faint hair falling on Sōji's back. "You've always been yourself, Sōji."

"Upon our first meeting in Shiekan Dōjō I thought: here's a man I'd like to live my life beside."

Kondō kept silent. Sōji knew his words are bitter-sweet.

"Thus, I'm happy it turned out like this. Thank you, Kondō-san, that you let me be by your side."

"Sōji..."

"Please, let me tell it... Thank you for being here now. And... I'm sorry I can't stay longer," he added in a whisper.

Kondō buried the face in his hair, almost crushing his shoulders.

"I wish I could repay you for everything. For your teachings, support and guidance. For your friendship. I was given it all, yet I couldn't give anything back..."

"Sōji. Don't say any more," Kondō's voice was strangled.

Sōji smiled slightly. "Then..." He lifted himself a bit and kissed his lips, warm and tasting of sake. "Good night, Kondō-san," he said, resting the head on his chest again and closing his eyes.

For a moment, there was only silence filled with the beating of the strong heart. He couldn't hear the wind in the trees or the song of nightingales any more. Kondō-san took a deep breath. "Good night, Sōji. Sleep well. I'm here."

His illness, the jealous mistress, thrashed around, unable to reach and devour him. He was safe in the arms of the only man he loved with all his tormented heart. His life _hadn't been_ meaningless.

He smiled, sensing the upcoming sleep he was not to wake up from.

One might say there was no happiness in dying. Okita Sōji knew better.


End file.
